The Right Way Of Things
by SpellotapedSnidget
Summary: Everything has its place but it's not always found easily. Alice sees if something is wrong or right. She sees to the heart of things. But she sees the world differently. Maybe it's strange to you, maybe it makes no sense but then again, maybe you just can't see.


_**Disclaimer** : Only the plot bunnies are mine. Credit goes to the wonderful JK Rowling who gifted us with the world of Harry Potter._

* * *

She blinks awake and stares at the white white ceiling. So white it is not a cloud. So unmoving. With the tiniest hint of blue inside it looks clearer. Somehow more white. And that is just as things are supposed to be.

She turns her head to look at him and is relieved to see him still lying next to her and staring above, surely wondering just about the same things she does. And the sight of his small frown makes her happy. A light bubbly feeling in her stomach that threatens to escape. He's there, he's next to her and that is just like perfect things ought to be. She reaches her hand out to him and touches his wrist with two of her fingers, a content smile on her face. He turns his head and a shy smile plays around his lips. It's a peaceful sight, a perfect moment in which the world has just clicked into sync. Her heart is full of joy and love.

XxX

A scream wakes her, an animalistic sound followed by sharp breaths and sniffling. The ceiling is not white white, everything is black and high above is the colour of pale bones looming through the darkness. She turns her head to him and sees the panic in his eyes, the rapid up and down of his chest, the sweat on his forehead. She wants to reach out to him and tell him that everything is just fine that it was simply a bad dream but she can't. Because he's right. The darkness presses down upon them and the tangled sheets bind him to the bed. So hard and slick and unyielding. So evil, binding him, grasping him. And he's right to panic because the world is off its hinges, everything is dark and evil is lurking in the shadows, crawling closer and closer to them. Everything is just _wrong_. And so she screams.

XxX

He's not there. It's the first thing she notices on waking up. Even before she has opened her eyes she knows. The panic wants to rise inside her but something is in its way. It stifles the panic, it numbs her and she's so tired but she has to be certain. She fights against her heavy lids and peers to her side. It's empty just as she knew it would be. A gurgling sound escapes her lips and her eyes well up with tears but the thing that's keeping the panic at bay makes her all foggy and steals her strength to move. It drags her down, down, down to sleep but she can't, she mustn't because he's not here and therefor the world is all wrong again, all lopsided.

A shooing sound, a gentle voice, a cool hand on her forehead. She wants to tell the voice that he's missing, she wants to beg for help. But the voice tells her everything is fine and it's alright, she's alright. But she knows it's not, _she's_ not, because he's not here and how could she be right when half of her is missing? Even so the dread is muffled, the panic smouldered and she's dragged into the fog because sleep is calling and it's too strong to resist.

XxX

For a small breath of time she is scared by the thin black strokes surrounding her vision. She's afraid the darkness has returned but then she sees the truth. Her eyelashes just want to be curtains today. They want her to see the beauty of a fresh morning. And it's true, it's right, because it's a new world today, it's a fresh start and the day has not yet decided what it wants to become.

Some things though, have already found their place. Her eyelashes are wonderful curtains and the light is playing along. It dips the whole room into a soft yellow, providing a stage for everything that wants it. So, slowly, the world wakes up and piece after piece finds its place. A grain of dust has claimed the stage for its own. It twirls and dances around in the light, hides in the shadows to emerge in full beauty again. It has decided to be a ballerina today and it's doing a wonderful job. She follows its dance until her eyes stop at him.

She wonders if she should reach out to him but immediately sees the wrong in it today. He has already found his part and she respects it. He wants to be a stone today. And a stone does not want to be touched, it's not a part of something else. It's his own master, it observes but keeps to itself. Some think it's impassive but she knows better. A stone just thinks a lot before reacting. It thinks so long most people never see it move.

He wants to be a stone today and that is fine with her. But she wants to be more active. She wants to dance with the grain of dust and she wants to bath in the light. She wants to see what else her eyelash curtains want to show her. She decides she's the wind today.

XxX

A woman comes into the room, only she's no woman today, she's a bird. And as the wind she helps the bird fly around. The woman chirps and sings all the time while she flits around the room and brings food to the blonde man who wants to be a portrait and the other one who wants to be a fern.

And as the wind she can't answer but she catches the woman's question if they are all looking forward to Christmas tomorrow. The bird sings and sings about it all the time until it flies out of the room.

She does not know what exactly the woman means by Christmas but she has a feeling she once did. There is one thing she knows about it though: Christmas is a happy day, a smiling day, a right day. Christmas makes more out of two it makes four and in this four there's the one that makes a little unit out of her and him and him, it makes a them, a three. And three is good because three is a sort of things, the right way of things. She smiles because tomorrow, on this Christmas, the world will be put to perfect.

XxX

Her eyes find his the moment she wakes up. He looks happy. His hand curls around her fingers and she can feel the love run up her arm and find its way to her heart. He knows it. He knows it as much as she knows it. Today is a happy day. Today, nothing bad can happen. There's simply no room for darkness because _he_ will come. She's excited.

XxX

It's perfect. The crinkles give it a wave-like form that will allow it to glide with the wind and therefor reveal the patterns of the world. Reveal the beauty all around them. And he's young so he needs help to see it. The red colour matches his scarf perfectly. It suits him. It fits. It's just right. And she remembers how she opened it, how her mouth kissed the surface to remove the little sweet and instead left something else. Something more powerful and right. It's her love for him wrapped in the little paper. A kiss to take whenever it is needed.

It's the perfect gift for him. She doesn't know why she hasn't seen it before. So she hurries after him to give him the little red paper. Suddenly, as she stands before him, she's nervous. What if he doesn't like it? What if he doesn't understand, doesn't see? But she hopes and so, timidly, she extends her hand and holds her breath while she waits for him to react. It's only a half-breath, a split second, before he stretches out his arm and as she drops the little red paper his warm hand brushes hers and she feels joy and love and happiness. She feels like a leaf dancing in the wind and like the grain of dust bathing in sunlight and like the bird flitting around the room. So she hums and returns with the knowledge that he understands, that he sees.

Today, everything has found its place. Everything is just right.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Tried something new here. I hope you liked it even though it is a bit strange._

 _I also don't want to conceal from you that, for this piece, I got inspired by "The slow regard of silent things" by Patrick Rothfuss. Hope he hurries up and releases the third book of "The Kingkiller Chronicle" soon..._

 _For all those who didn't get it: The story describes how Alice Longbottom sees the world after having been attacked and tortured by the Death Eaters. It takes place during "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" (more precisely "christmas on the closed ward") and shows why Neville's mother gives her son a Drooble's Best Blowing Gum wrapper as a Christmas gift._


End file.
